


The Bloodline Project

by saturners



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, god i wish i could dump exposition on yall without being annoying, ive been sitting on this draft for four years now its time, minor warning for secondhand embarrasment in the later chapters, though i doubt this will get that far
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-08 10:20:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19105153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturners/pseuds/saturners
Summary: Amnesiacs are a semi-regular occurrence. Bluebloods, people with abilities beyond extraordinary and strange enhancements on top of that, are not. But the world has bigger problems to worry about, like royalty running wild, kidnapping and drugging people to turn them into warriors, the likes of which the world has long forgotten how to deal with.The half-dead girl who stumbled her way into what was supposed to be a refuge, is the key to everything. Not that she knows.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> with minimal demand from twitter i give u: the first chapter of a literal fever dream that morphed into This somewhere along the way. feel free to roast it i couldn't count the cliches if i tried

My coming to consciousness wasn’t graceful, or anywhere on the spectrum of normal. It was brash and violent and all kinds of wrong, and when I clutched my chest and felt my heart racing at the same speed of my shaking hands, I was confident that I should’ve died on the spot.

With the way my lungs burned with every breath, I dearly wished that I had.

 It eased after a few minutes, but the fog in my mind only became worse. I couldn’t see anything around me, and when I tried to at least get a feel of my surroundings, my palms stung so horribly I had to stop. As did my knees, elbows and about a thousand other wounds littering my skin. So that wasn’t ideal.

 When the initial rush of horror and adrenaline that came from waking on the floor of a dark room with an empty mind passed, I was quick to replace it with one wave of anxieties after the other. The cycle went on for heavens-know how long, and I managed to empty my gut somewhere on the floor thrice, my thoughts echoing so clearly against my skull I might as well have been talking to myself between the retching.  The overbearing phantom weight of stone that crushed my spirit from above wasn’t helping, either.

 Relief came after about an hour, in the form of a ray of light that split the wall in front of me in half, floor to ceiling. With a metallic whirr and horrible, skull-splitting creaking, the door opened. Behind it, with the light from behind forming a sort of halo around her head, stood a woman.

 My eyes burned trying to get a more detailed look at her, but what I could make out definitively was a sort of apologetic smile that crossed her otherwise serious features.

 “Speak Adeiran?”

 I could certainly shout in Adeiran. Would have, too, if my throat wasn’t dry and itchy as all hells. So I nodded.

 The woman, who no longer gave me a splintering headache to look at, seemed to be of about fifty years of age, with a tired but alert stature and a gaze that made it seem like she knew more than she would ever let on. Her curly black hair was styled in an undercut, even though it seemed to be growing out at the moment, and, aside from the pair of sandals in the hand resting on her hip, she looked like the most average person to have ever trodden the earth. The grey jumpsuit and green camo-print bomber jacket that fell just a little too loose on her frame accentuated that fact.

 “Apologies for the darkness,” she began, and her voice had a familiar softness to it. “We had to reroute power to the hospital for a surgery and, just don’t be mad, I’d  forgotten you were here.”

 In the light, now that I could finally see all the injuries that had made living difficult thus far, they didn’t look nearly as bad as they’d felt. In fact, most were just little cuts with varying degrees of dirt on them. So not as big a deal as a surgery.

 “S’alright,” I rasped after a particularly draining coughing fit. From that word alone, I could tell that, even fully rested, my voice wouldn’t be as nice as hers.

 “So, uh, I brought these,” she said and handed me the plastic shoes. Then she threw her head back and added, “General precaution, nobody’s swept this place since it was built.”

I looked at my feet. They were, in fact, bare. So I clad the flimsy things and, though it caused my joints much discomfort, stood up. Blood immediately rushed everywhere and my vision faltered, but when I stumbled forward and threatened to fall down again, the woman -who was, against all expectations, _so tall_ \-  caught me with ease.

 A nametag was hastily stitched to her jacket. _Lt. General A. Nava._ If there was any colour in my cheeks, it drained with haste.

 Noticing this, she clicked her tongue. “Oh, that thing makes me seem way too necessary. I’ll live if you just call me Aria.”

 I furrowed my brows and looked at her. Smiling, even with her eyes. Brown. The least threatening colour. _Alright, then._

 After making sure I could stand on my own, Aria squeezed my shoulder reassuringly and beckoned me to follow her to an examination. I didn’t catch the rest, because a gust of air that came from somewhere down the hallway suddenly made me aware of the fact that my clothes smelled like someone had died in them.  Thankfully, Aria didn’t bring it up once as we made our way through the cold, maze-like corridors.

 With not a window in sight, the only source of light was the two endless strips of light embedded in the ceiling, which reflected off every speck in the polished stone floor. Were it not for the tight squeeze and dusty walls, it could have looked like a path to the heavens. Only visually, however. Everything smelled of decades-old dust, and of the many doors we passed on our way, the very few that weren’t eerily silent held sounds of despair behind them. I inquired about it. Aria looked at me over her shoulder, her face unreadable. 

 When, after passing through a glass door and spending two seconds in a carpeted section, we arrived at the hospital—loud, bright and carrying the faint smell of cinnamon— I was too focused on making sure my steps matched up with Aria’s long strides than where we were headed and slammed straight into her back. She didn’t so much as waver, and even offered a bemused smile while I wallowed in my mistake. Then she knocked.

 A thud sounded from inside, followed by barely audible murmurs and a louder, “In a minute!”

 Nothing happened after a minute. Or two. After the third, Aria reached into a pocket and pulled out a phone-sized translucent blue card that she pressed against the timetable by the door. The glass panel lit up, asking Aria for a password which she provided without a second thought. It now showed the schedule for the day, by which I concluded it was near late afternoon, and as soon as it transferred to the blue card, the panel by the door went back to normal in an instant.

 Aria sifted through the doctor’s schedule, eyes gliding over sensitive information like it was nothing. Then they widened, and she quickly pushed me away from the door and instructed me to be still. Not that I would have—or had any reason to—but I didn't have much time to object before the door opened and a figure quietly stepped out of the office.

 He offered the doctor inside a small nod and turned swiftly on his heel to leave, but stopped dead in his tracks the second he saw us two. His gaze was piercing, irises a bright, unnatural yellow that clashed greatly with his dark skin and made the heavy bags under his eyes feel even more unwanted. The way he looked at me sent a chill through my entire being. Then he nodded again and left without saying a word.

 I watched him over my shoulder as he left, as there wasn’t anywhere else to look. He was tall, much more so than me but nowhere close to towering over Aria, yet something about his build seemed… _off._ He carried himself with a light limp, in a way that made it seem like he wasn’t used to the dimensions of his body, and the steps he took were almost deliberately soft, as were his general movements. It looked like he was afraid of touching _anything_ in this building of pure stone. As he walked, I noticed he held his left wrist in his other hand, turning it over every few steps but keeping it out of sight. And then he was gone.

 I turned to Aria. She blinked back. Then a kind voice called through the shut metal door, and it was my turn to be poked and prodded.

 The fluorescent lighting seemed to be even worse in the small office, letting my headache regain some footing. My hand shot to my temples before I could think about it, and Aria let out an annoyed sigh.

 ‘’It’s a little urgent,’’ she said, placing a hand firmly on my shoulder. Surely she didn’t mean for her thumb to dig straight into a particularly tender bruise.

 The doctor scoffed, then peered at us over a stack of papers that were highlighted to near death. Her bespectacled eyes glossed over me, eyebrows furrowing in confusion at Aria as she reached for a stethoscope and a notepad. I flinched right into Aria’s chin.

 ‘’Easy,’’ they both said, at the exact same time.

 ‘’Water, maybe?” The doctor followed up. I was _parched_ , so much so I could only nod in agreement. So she held out her hand, and a papercup flew into it like iron to a magnet, droplets of mist crowding along the walls until it swirled with water. When she handed it to me, I downed its contents like I was about to win a bet by a margin.

 ‘’Easy,’’ Aria repeated. I glared at her, not even sure why, and meekly asked for a refill, if the doctor would be so kind.

 After a total of four glasses, the doctor -whose name I heard Aria mumble many times as Niamh- decided that would be enough and instructed me to sit down. She might've added 'at once' if I didn't look so close to dying.

 I hadn't realized how close my legs were to giving out until I slumped down against the wall on the examination table. Bed? The criteria escaped me, but there was a small pillow I managed to wedge at the crook of my neck that made the experience a bit more bearable. Just a tad. At least until the doctor pulled out a sheet of paper with a myriad of questions to be answered- I imagined a good chunk of them required a needle of some sort.

 While Aria retreated to a corner to ‘do some work’ but ended up simply brewing a pot of coffee, Niamh glided over on one of those spinny office chairs, adjusting her frizzy ponytail and facing me with a faint smile. Her eyes glossed over me and, because it was just a routine procedure to her, asked: ‘’Name, age, citizen’s code?”

 As if I knew the answer to that.

 Wait.

 In the few minutes since I had known Aria, she hadn’t asked me any questions, so I hadn’t bothered checking to see if I had any answers. I didn’t. My mind was blank, and a dull pain swelled in my chest when I tried to think of _why_. Actually, that pain might have been my misguided heartbeat, but we hadn’t gotten that far just yet.

 “I don’t know.”

 Niamh didn’t look as surprised as I thought she would. She didn’t look _at all_ surprised. Only scratched her head and, in a low drawl, asked Aria, “ _Kara aloi est?_ ”

  _What?_

 “Don’t be rude,” Aria sulked. “What’s wrong?”

 I shrugged. I felt _fine._ Only fatigue and a headache bothering me, and something deep within willed me to say _nothing, move on!_ But I didn’t get around to that.

 “What’s the last thing you recall?” Niamh asked.

 Trick question. I pulled both of my legs under myself to sit cross-legged and rested my head in my hands. A thin layer of grime coated my skin. It was sticky and disgusting, and probably bile. I shook my head for an answer and asked for a tissue. The office only had wet wipes, which I refused to put near my face for further cleanup.

 “Nothing at all?’’ Niamh asked again, in a tone that made me want to apologize profusely. Pathetic as I felt, I shook my head again.

 ‘’Alright, well,’’ Aria clicked her tongue and stepped backwards to the door. ‘’You handle _that._ It's likely I have other obligations.’’

 Both Niamh and I raised our eyebrows at Aria. For differing reasons, I assumed, but the sentiment of unity was there. And then she was gone.

 For a moment, neither of us knew what to do next. Niamh flipped through her notepad while I sat there cleaning my hands and found pink scars across my palms. I pointed all of them out to the doctor, who noted how well they were healing. From what, she couldn’t quite say.

 The closest thing to a conversation came to be while Niamh was shining a flashlight into my eyes -a _remarkable_ grey, she noted- and I asked her if I was in trouble. She laughed at that, quietly but still, and switched the light off.

 ‘’Whatever gave you that impression?’’ She asked, neatly folding her hands into her lap.

 ‘’Well,’’ I stammered. ‘’Aria’s military, isn’t she? She escorted me with a hand on her holster. I still have no idea where I am -looks like a prison, frankly- and now it turns out I don’t know who _I_ am. I woke up, like, an hour ago, this is a _lot_.’’

 Niamh didn’t say anything, but I could see the wheels turning in her head as she thought of an answer. Her expression, actually, revealed less than her coat did-  intricate jewelry wrapped around her neck and cascading over her shoulders, stains of varying colours on the sleeves and lapel, and a nametag pinned to the breast pocket. _Niamh H. Erven, physician._

 ‘’Trouble’s relative, you know. It depends on where you’re standing. Right now, the country’s in pretty deep from all angles, but it’s shown how much good there’s left in the world. And it’s given me a job, I can’t complain about that.’’ She paused and looked at me, a mellow look in her eyes. Then, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms in front of her, tipped her head back.

 ‘’Not technically a prison. More of a hideout. You’re free to go whenever, but I’d advise against it. It’s cold out, first of all,’’ She counted on her fingers. ‘’Second, there’s scarier places to be, and way worse people to be around. Plus, if you’re really blank up there, you’ve nowhere to go. So we might as well get you accomodated. I’ll give you a form, but there’s a couple things left to figure out. And as for Aria- not someone you should worry about. She doesn’t do  much, really. She keeps pepper spray in that holster.’’

 There wasn’t anything left to discuss after that. Niamh didn’t ask me anything because I probably couldn’t answer, and I didn’t ask because I didn’t know what to. My life experiences stretched as far back as the cell I was in. And it was dark, so I knew nothing about it. Perhaps for the better. I liked Niamh’s office.

 Though cramped and without a window in sight, it was roomy and warm and oddly inviting for a doctor’s office, with a small bowl of peppermint candy on the desk. I emptied it out about halfway, and after Niamh told me to slow down, scarfed down the remaining behind her back. An array of certificates and diplomas on the wall assured me that I could trust her, but so did the fact that she offered to call someone to bring me something to eat. I wasn’t that hungry, especially after all the candy, but her tone led me to believe it wasn’t a question. 

 When it came time to draw my blood -Niamh had been _very_ disappointed by the fact that I didn’t know my own blood type- about half an hour had passed. I wasn’t much afraid of needles, or so I believed, so the procedure didn’t bother me. The vial was an opaque white plastic instead of the usual see-through, so to read the results, Niamh had to put it in some menacing-looking machine. It hummed to life after she pressed no less than a dozen buttons, which I felt was overkill, but, apparently, barely enough, as Niamh noted.

 Again, curiosity struck. ‘’Is that like an oversized centrifuge?’’

 Niamh, back to sitting at her desk, put both elbows on the table and rested her chin in her palms. ‘’Basically, yeah. Does all the dirty work for us. I’ve no idea how we used to tell percentages before this. Must’ve been a genealogical nightmare.’’

 The way she said it, _percentages_ , told me that was as bland a piece of information as they come. Percentages of what, exactly? Dumbassery? I reckoned I’d test high.

 The machine beeped. Loudly. Partly amplified by my headache, of which I still hadn’t notified Niamh, and the acoustics of the room. Noises bounce off of pure stone too easily.

 For the big reveal, I groggily travelled the far distance of two steps forward and next to Niamh. She offered me the honour of pressing yet another button, which I politely declined, given the state of my hands and lack of knowledge of things. So when a bright blue vial  landed in Niamh’s outstretched hand and she said _huh_ , I didn’t.

 ‘’I honestly thought you were more of a mauve. Wrote it on the form and everything.’’

 ‘’Is there a difference?’’

 Niamh, as expected, stared at me. ‘’Are you serious?”

 I looked down at my feet.

 ‘’So, okay. Sit down for a minute. I can’t tell if you’re bluffing or not.”

 When I insisted I wasn’t, Niamh put both hands over her face. For a moment, she just looked at me through her fingers, not doing much else, and then slumped back into her chair. The machine had finished printing the  more detailed results, and she tore the paper out, studying it with a burning intensity.

 ‘’This says _nothing_ about interference of any nature. If you’d been mindwiped, that would show up first. Remind me to prescribe you some supplements and dinner, but that’s it.’’ Niamh said mostly to herself. She stared at the results a bit more, scrunching her face more with each passing second. And then she stopped. Her face fell slack, all colour draining from it, lips parted in shock. ‘’ _Merte, rire mor para._ ’’

_Cue Aria_. I had actually heard her coming this way while Niamh was preoccupied with her minor freakout, but pointing it out would’ve been a pointless action, so I didn’t. And she’d timed her entrance right when Niamh said who-knows-what in that other language, so she crossed the threshold with a scowl on her face.

 ‘’Niamh, what do I keep telling you?’’

 The paper floated out of Niamh’s hand and into Aria’s. She gave it a quick glance, and, apparently, found it just as shocking, if mouthing _what_ was any indication.

 ‘’ _Mer hauken arker. Kara aloi est?_ ’’

 Frankly, I was getting sick of being the only one in the room unaware of the recent developments. So, without a word, I snatched the paper out of Aria’s hand in a move that made sirens go off in my head. She was in the middle of retorting something and I interrupted their conversation, and before I could read what was so scandalous, Aria scoffed.

 ‘’Alright. _Now_ I see it.’’

 There was no way, given my meek stature and wobbly knees, that I would be the least bit intimidating when talking to a polar opposite of myself. Nevertheless: ‘’See _what_ ? Niamh says I’m not the right colour and now you’re scoffing at me, which is _so rude_ by the way, can one of you for shit’s sake explain what’s going on?”

_OhwhydidIsayitlike that ._

Admitting defeat, Aria raised her palms in the air and said, ‘’That’s fair. I guess. Don’t call me rude. Doc?”

Niamh puffed her cheeks—not in an angry way, more like a gesture of ‘I guess this is happening’—and handed the vial over to me. ‘’You’re a blueblood. Congratulations.’’


	2. Chapter 2

It took another half hour to explain it to me. 

Bluebloods, or highbloods, or  _ pompous bastards _ , as Aria duly noted, are humans. Just as much as redbloods. And halfbloods. And everyone in between. But I’m not in between. I’m a blueblood. And that’s… good? World’s still deciding.

They didn’t exist at first. Not up until a thousand years ago, when everyone was born with blood as red as flame, with no special skills and none the wiser of it. Then the history of this country, Adeira, began with someone long forgotten coughing up blood like the sky above them the minute they stepped foot on the shore. The rest of their compatriots, fleeing from whatever lives they’d had before, experienced something similar. A generation later, so did about a tenth of the world’s population. They were shunned, of course, but mostly feared for what they could now do, and had no choice but to take to the oceans and add to the eclectic citizens of what was shaping up to be a formidable community.

As of me, there’s a total of eighty-seven bluebloods in the world. At their peak, there used to be more,  _ way more, _ about half-on-half with the redbloods in the world population, but people don’t work like that. centuries passed, and the pureblood numbers shrunk. In total, we now make up a percentage of the world population so small, most calculators don’t show that far past the decimal point. Just over a hundred. 

Niamh’s not a blueblood, and neither is Aria, but one’s higher up the ladder than the other. Thirty-four and eleven percent, and it shows accordingly. Hence why Niamh most always floats things over to you, and Aria gets a migraine from trying. The higher one’s blood percentage, the better they are at performing such feats. Niamh demonstrated her prowess by filling another cup of water via absorbing the moisture out of the air, but noted that it’s about as far as she can bend her power. Not me, though. I can do more. 

Along with advanced skills in magic from birth -because the redbloods, they’re smart, and devised quick enough how to brew potions rivalling raw magic-, bluebloods have another advantage- enhancements.  _ Why _ , nobody knows for sure. But they’re fascinating. As the name suggests, it’s an enhanced ability of some sort, either physical or arcane in nature, like incredible strength or the power to bend light to your will. It shows up on its own most times, though if I ever feel up to it, there have been studies on what makes enhancements tick, and someone could probably brew up an injection that might just do something. 

Whenever a new piece of information like that was revealed to me, it didn’t feel like I was learning it for the first time, more like it’d all been there on the tip of my tongue and I had simply been reminded of it. Neither Niamh nor Aria had any idea how that even worked, the former promising she’ll look into it while the latter stared blankly at her with a raised brow. 

‘’So there’s all this information on bluebloods,’’ I concluded. ‘’Names and powers and what have you?’’

Aria nodded. ‘’With your dwindling numbers, the world keeps a somewhat close eye on purebloods. It’s a whole thing, really. Practically a holiday when one is born.’’

I tilted my head. ‘’Do you know who I am, then?’’

It seemed a simple enough question, yet that’s what stumped Aria. She scrunched her face, then un-scrunched it, and, after a moment of brief thought, did it again. ‘’That’s the problem. Before this...  _ event, _ I did very specific work. Met all the purebloods as a side perk. Had dinner, exchanged phone numbers, that standard political friendmaking procedure. And yet I’ve  _ never _ seen anyone even remotely resembling you.’’

_ Oh. _ My stomach dropped. As I was sure anyone would, I wanted to curl up in a ball, hold whatever I knew as close as possible But the only thing I knew for certain was myself, and even that knowledge was incomplete. Quite the hopeless situation. Someone should do something about that. 

Aria sighed, and gave me a sympathetic look with only a little suspicion behind it. ‘’Sorry about that. We could run you through missing persons reports, if you’d like. It’s a small chance, but it could be something.’’

I wasn’t entirely sure if that was the best approach, but at least it was out there. Out of all  _ one _ of them, it was the best idea we had. ‘’What until then?’’

‘’I told you. Accommodation.’’ Niamh stated. And that was that.

***

Contrary to every protocol in place, Aria allowed me to use the shower in her personal quarters and arranged for me to receive a change of clothes before finding a room right in the hospital. Both Aria and I wondered if that truly was the best thing, I wasn’t injured in any major way and the biggest problem plaguing me was out of anyone’s hands, but Niamh persisted.  _ Too many surprises with this one _ , she said.  _ Best to keep an eye on her. _

I didn’t ask about the ‘trouble on a national scale’ Niamh had mentioned earlier, as she’d advised me to try not to put too much of a strain on myself to remember things. It should all come back to me in due time, if the developments of the past hour were any indication. What I did inquire about was Aria’s military rank, and she gave me a straight answer-  _ Coup. Sort of.  _ I found it hard to believe, but frankly, it didn’t seem all that important to me anymore. I had been told dinner was right around the corner, and I was excited. 

Way too much dirt washed off of me, and blood and sweat and what to the best of my knowledge looked like bits of drywall. My skin was consistently covered in healing scars and bruises, which all hurt like hell to the touch. There was a collection of dots on my forearm that didn’t look all that different from the spot Niamh drew my blood from. I was also ridiculously bony, and doing just about anything that required any contact hurt. Washing out my hair was the worst of it, though. What I originally believed to be clumps of dirt were just knots, and not ones I could comb through. I didn’t even know how long my hair was because of them, but that wouldn’t really matter once I found a loose pair of scissors. My nails were haggard and frail and slightly yellow, and I was missing two toenails. Too much to unpack there. 

My clothes were about the same as Aria’s, down to the bagginess, which she noted was a clerical error I shouldn’t get used to. The jacket had a total of eight pockets, and I was also given a small chain with a tag to engrave my credentials on. If I had all of them, it would be my name, temporary address and blood percentage. Just the latter for now, which was, for obvious reasons, enough _. _

What really turned my day around was the socks they gave me. They were the most basic things- black, cotton and barely ankle high- but they were also the comfiest, softest, warmest-to-the-touch things that I had ever felt. I made a note in my mind, the very first, to find out how to acquire more.

Both of the people I knew had jobs, fairly important ones at that, so, after kindly showing me where the nearest map of the place was, Aria hurried off without as much as a goodbye. Not that I expected one, she seemed quite busy. But still. Rude. 

During my hour with Niamh, she’d defined this place as many things. A camp, a hideout, a structural marvel. I hadn’t understood how she meant to correlate those terms until now, and once I did, I completely agreed. Because the hall I stood in now, and everything I’d seen before, was carved into a mountain. It was built like a mine, with all the tunnels and forks in the way, only impenetrable from all sides and sixty storeys deep. Or high. The terminology was unclear. The hospital was on the very lowest level, and it was pretty massive by the looks of it. I tried to find the room number Aria had scribbled on the back of a rather important looking document and given to me, but there were at least a thousand rooms, so I figured I’d bother when I actually needed it. 

To get to the registration offices, I had to take an elevator. There were stairs, of course, and they were actually closer to the point where I stood, but thinking of taking on just one flight of stairs made me queasy. 

It was loud up there. Dozens of people crammed into a room clearly not meant for that many, all anxious and eager to get this over with. I got a number, lucked out and found a chair, and found that, even though I had been unconscious for almost two days before, I dozed off rather quickly. An old woman sitting next to me poked me with the corner of her bag to wake me up, and just in time. The number that glared at me from the crumpled slip of paper in my hand flashed on a red sign by a desk in the corner, and I made my way over. 

‘’Papers,’’ The person working the desk commanded before I had a chance to greet them or even sit down. 

I slid the document, signed and stamped by Aria, over to them. Without even looking it over, they grumbled, ‘’Passport or birth certificate. You’re applying for stay, are you not?’’

‘’It’s from general Nava,’’ I stammered.  _ Shit, would that even work? _ Aria hadn’t explained much, It didn’t seem like she even knew how this part of things operated. 

They glanced at it. Then me. And sighed. ‘’ _ Lieutenant _ general. Hold on a moment.’’

They rolled away on a spinny chair, which I was starting to believe was the norm here, and didn’t return for a good while. When they did, though, it seemed as if nothing was out of the ordinary. However, they didn’t give me a form to fill out, and had taken the liberty of doing so upon themselves, following the guide Aria had written out. After a brief moment of thought, I figured that was fair. Not much input I could give that would be constructive, really. 

‘’Name?’’ They asked, when only one box had been left blank. 

‘’I don’t really have one.’’

They rolled their eyes. ‘’Think of one. We have people waiting.’’

I combed my mind for a name. Any name. Doesn’t even need to sound nice. Just the blandest, most top-of-your-head thing I could think of. Come on. Say something. 

‘’Mauve. No family name.’’

The clerk looked at me strangely and raised an eyebrow, but decided against saying anything. I myself wasn’t sure why I said that, especially after Niamh had scratched it out of my form to write  _ indigo _ . Maybe for all the bruises that made sitting in the uncomfortable wooden chair even worse. I just couldn’t wait to get out of the damned thing and take a nap in an actual bed.

A small envelope with an engraved tag on a chain and a red card like Aria’s was unceremoniously handed to me, and I was officially someone. With the lines and my nap, it had only taken me the better chunk of an hour. I tried not to think too much about the entirety of my life stretching back about three hours, and all my belongings fitting into the palm of my hand. I secured the chain around my wrist like a bracelet, and kept turning the card over as I walked. It was quite the marvel. 

When I landed in a hallway that I knew for certain had my room  _ somewhere _ in it, I noticed something akin to a skip join my step. The doors were spaced farther apart than in other parts of the hospital, which I hoped meant more space and not a roommate. I reckoned I could get along with one if  _ absolutely necessary _ , but if there was any option, I would much rather be alone. So far, the hospital was still the quietest place I’d been, and I liked it that way. 

All the doors were identical, a shining gray steel with cold door knobs and numbers engraved in them, because paint would’ve been too much of a hassle.  _ U-57-2, U-57-4, U-57-6. _ There.  _ U-57-8 _ . Whatever the code meant, the room behind it was now my home for the foreseeable future. 

I fumbled with the card for a bit, because it didn’t work at all like the mechanism of Niamh’s office door, and there was no glass panel beside it. When I finally worked out how to open it -a simple slot under the doorknob, of all things- my knees were close to giving in.  Too close. 

A wave of cold, stale air hit me first, then lights even brighter than the ones in the hallway. The first thing I did, even before looking around, was find the light switch and dim them to perhaps a quarter of their former glory. Better. 

The room was, to my surprise, at least twice the size of Niamh’s office, and four times that of the cell I’d been held in. It didn’t look much like a hospital room, more closely resembling a low-end hotel than anything. Immediately to my right, a rough stone wall with what looked like a metal mailbox embedded in it, in front of me, a door to what I guessed correctly was the tiniest of bathrooms, and to my left, a small coffee table with two chairs. There was a nook on the side, big enough for just one bed -already made, thank goodness- that I made my way over to immediately. Not even bothering to take off my shoes or get under the covers, I quickly fell into a dreamless sleep. 

***

A forgettable month passed. I made a routine for myself. It took a few days, but I managed to even out my sleeping schedule to something a bit more normal than whatever it had been before. Got up, had breakfast -handily delivered to the mailbox-looking thing in the wall- checked in with Niamh. Some days she got the drop on me and called first, and on the very rarest of occasions, I got a call from Aria. _ I don’t do this _ , she explained,  _ but you’re a blueblood. It’s different.  _

Unfortunately or not -I still hadn’t decided- a direct line to the lieutenant general was about the only thing that made my bluebloodedness known. Any attempt at magic gave me heart palpitations, and my enhancement still hadn’t made itself known, nor had any new memories. And I was fine with that. Nobody had come looking for me, and I didn’t match a single report or wanted poster. Even my fingerprints were nonexistent- sanded off had been my guess for the first week or so, but the ridges refused to grow back. I still had myself, and almost too many signs pointed to that having always been the case. Still, Aria never failed to remind me that my situation gave her a headache. And I understood that. 

The mailbox-looking thing in the wall wasn’t just for food, as I realized about two weeks in. The card, that handy little thing I didn’t bother to know the proper name of, could be used to ask for all sorts of things. I ordered books with it. Because the place was huge, and it had an extensive library, and I just couldn’t be bothered to leave my room and go there myself. 

Mostly, I read up on history. My mind had held on to a vague outline of it, but only the major events, and even then without any details. And for being so small, the nation’s history was fascinating. Adeira, or  _ the soul of one _ in the old language that refused to be named, was an island a long way away from the nearest landmass. It wasn’t hidden by any means, but even in times of endless border expansion, no state dared claim it as their own, for almost too many folk tales and legends warned it was the final resting place of gods. I didn’t care much for those stories, so I skipped ahead. 

The first settlers to arrive ran from overbearing lords or the bounties on their heads, and once they found the island to be empty of all life, malicious or otherwise, it became a sort of sanctuary for anyone seeking refuge. It thrived that way for about two centuries, until some other nations decided that it just couldn’t be. The following occupation went on for nearly four hundred years, until one Renada Lockwood, having felt that it had been enough of that, stood at the very centre of the island and joined hands with a nearby adeiran, and then another, and soon it was a circle. And as it grew, the whole nation joining together, they’d made it to the coast and driven every occupant out of the land. And that was that. 

It was quite the story, though no book could agree on any details. Renada was either an orphan or child of nobility, adeiran from the very beginning or a recent refugee. Some even called them a mercenary from Madohe, the country that had taken the biggest bite out of Adeira and used gratuitous violence to not let it go. Their description had been triangulated to ‘tall, dark and handsomely carrying a sword’, and just as most of Adeira’s populace at the time, they were a blueblood, though nobody knew what, if any, enhancement Renada possessed. Even their age was a mystery. The only thing known for certain was that, after liberating the people, Renada was elected as leader, and direct descendants of theirs still sit in the throne today. 

Some days, I actually got out of my pyjamas and left the room to get coffee. There was one spot, where the hallway branched off into two others, that served as a sort of communal space. The only noteworthy thing about it was a small TV mounted on the wall, but most days I didn’t see anyone on the couch and had the lone coffee machine to myself. 

Until one day I didn’t. 

I relied on previous evidence promising I’d be the only person there, so I hadn’t bothered to comb my hair -unevenly trimmed to just below my jaw, and much closer to orange than it had seemed at first- and was out in only my sleeveless grey jumpsuit, so all the late-stage bruises on my arms were visible to the world. I was humming something off-tune and, again, had some sort of hop in my step. Too much energy, probably. Niamh hadn’t changed my dose of supplements, so I was still taking barely-alive amounts when I was, despite everything, doing quite well. 

The stand offered paper cups, but they just couldn’t hold as much drink, so I’d ‘borrowed’ one from the dishes that came with my food. It heated up way too easily, so I either downed my drink right there or scurried back to my room, passing the cup from one hand to the other every few steps. Soon after waking up, however, I’d stubbed my little finger  _ twice,  _ so I settled with having to sit and drink out in the hallway. 

It was the worst day to do that, because for the first time ever, someone else had already taken to the couch. Peacefully reading a leather-bound tome with the TV on as background static, dark coils of hair sticking up in every direction, one leg crossed over the other and bouncing nonchalantly, stuffed into the biggest sweater I’d ever seen. I recognised him not because of any of those things, but his eyes, an otherworldly shade of amber that seemed to be casting the faintest of lights over the book in his lap. They were already trained on me when I rounded the corner, and I stopped dead in my tracks. 

I didn’t know much about the person I’d bumped into before my first check-in with Niamh, and it wasn’t all that difficult to figure out why- the hordes of information that were dropped on me were far more important, no offense, and it was just a run-in. Actually, no, because we didn’t even touch shoulders. Aria pushed me to the side and he just walked by, and that was the end of our interaction. Hardly a base to build any sort of relationship on. 

But those eyes. They haunted me. Nobody should have to look at the world through anguish solidified and sealed within the once-soft gaze of someone who looked about the same age as me. I’d thought about the look he gave me- cold, confused, utterly  _ betrayed _ \- and wondered of the things that had to have happened to make it that way. Something was wrong with the land if it let its youth waste away like us two. 

I cleared my throat. ‘’Hi.’’

He stared curiously at me and offered the tiniest of waves, then turned back to his book. So be it, then. 

Slower than I usually would have, though not too far from my ability given the state of my foot, I walked over to the coffee machine and began brewing a cup. Standing at an angle, a quick glance at the metal plating of the machine told me the mystery guy  was pretending to read but was really looking at me from under his hair. 

“Don’t see a lot of folks around here,” I remarked, carefully maneuvering my cup out of the machine. I held it in both hands and leaned against the counter to appear entirely nonchalant, but soon realised just how much of a mistake that was as a scalding heat began slowly creeping its way into my palms

I took a sip of my coffee. I hadn’t added anything, and yet it was too sweet. “We’ve met before, right? At the doctor’s. Sort of.” 

He exhaled, set the book down at his feet and turned his torso to look at me. Tilted his head, parted his lips as if to say something, then gave the most dramatic shrug I’d ever seen. 

I set my already half-empty— _ gods above, Mauve, slow down _ —cup back on the counter and smoothed down my hair. “I mean, I probably looked way different. First day. Cut my hair since then.” 

He tipped his head back as if to say  _ ‘Ah, right, _ ’ but didn’t look like he knew what I was talking about and was more interested in returning to his book than anything I had to say. 

All signs pointed to me not getting much out of him. No, that sounded weird- I wasn’t interrogating the poor guy. But the mundane, everlasting days were just killing me. It seemed I’d sooner die of boredom and loneliness than gain any insight on my past life. 

“What’s that you’re reading? I didn’t see it in the archives.” The old books, like the incredibly overstuffed collection of adeiran folktales that was collecting dust somewhere in my room, had to be checked out manually. I’d only had enough will to make the trip once, hence why I still hadn’t returned it, and I spent the whole day weaving between the shelves and trying to pick which books to carry back. 

He exhaled and hoisted his legs up to the couch to sit cross-legged, and held the book up for me to see. It was fancier than I’d thought at first, the cover holding intricate golden illustrations of waves and foliage and constellations, and in the middle, stitched in with a shiny flourish:  _ Hronikel Iri Erkast.  _ I couldn’t say I’d read it. 

“Oh, you speak that old language?” 

As I expected, he didn’t respond right away. But instead of dismissing me like I genuinely thought he would, his look softened from blank to just a little bit invested in the conversation. He then shook his head, tapped his throat and placed a finger in on his lips. 

“Ah,” I tipped my head back. “Sorry, I probably trapped you in this conversation, didn’t I?” 

The distance between us was about a metre, and could easily be crossed with a handshake. He smiled just a little, extending his left hand to close the distance between us. The same identification tag was wrapped around his wrist to conveniently read information off of, and I did so, hoping he wouldn’t take it as a sign of hesitation to look into his eyes. 

_ Amadi Kayode, U-57-7, 50%.  _

“Oh, we’re neighbours! I’m right across the hall.” 

He squinted, like trying again to figure out if he’d seen me around. Likely not. He seemed as much a hermit as I. 

“I’m Mauve.” 

Amadi snorted, but covered the lower part of his face with his sweater to keep his quiet laughter a secret. 

‘’No, no, that’s fair. I’ve been regretting that decision.” 

He tilted his head, grabbed a notebook he’d wedged under his leg and a pencil from behind his ear, and scribbled something on the page. I could barely read the messy text, and squinted to make sense of it.

_ you from the pond too? _

“I don’t think so.” 

_ Yes or no question,  _ his eyes seemed to say. I pondered how long I could pretend to know what he was talking about. 

_ ok so no _ , he scribbled. 

With a little effort, I managed to sit atop the counter behind me, almost spilling a container of wooden sticks to be used for stirring. By the time I’d made myself comfortable, Amadi had another question ready for me. 

_ what’re they keeping you here for? _

“Getting hard to tell if this is a prison or not.” I lulled. “I don’t know. Anything. I don’t know anything and Aria won’t let me be because of it.’’

His look was blank, clearly having expected more substance to my answer. So I studied my brain for anything that could be considered interesting. 

‘’Said they found me under rubble somewhere, and I was spitting nonsense. Blacked out for two days, was deemed not a threat, and here I am.’’ I lifted the metal cup in the air like a toast, and a drop of hot coffee landed on the hand Amadi had placed his chin on. 

It was supposed to be scalding. Clearly made to survive long stretches of time, leaving my tongue numb after every cup, not that I stopped drinking for that or any reason. But when it hit Amadi’s skin and made its way down into the sleeve of his sweater afterwards, he didn’t even flinch. It was only when I stared intently at his hand that he looked at it and swiped away any trace of the beverage with his sleeve. 

As he did that, the notebook began floating by his head, and the pencil along with it. I followed the smooth, deliberate movements, and when the page turned itself to me, noted how mechanical and neat the letters looked compared to his previous sentences. 

_ slowly getting interesting _ , it said. 


End file.
